


Expectations & Subversions

by reylomami



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is the inspiration for Han and Leia's children's book, Coming of Age, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Orphan Rey, but not the other way round, consent will be discussed but hold till further tags, for each other's lives, it might get dark, loosely inspired by Gone Girl's Amazing Amy series, meeting her childhood dream is not what she expected, rey kind of grows up with ben, these two can't keep their hands off each other, who worships who more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylomami/pseuds/reylomami
Summary: As an orphan, Rey has a love-hate relationship with the cult-favourite children's book series called 'Being Ben'. Perfect little Ben had everything that Rey didn't, and it's hard not to resent him for that while still dreaming of having the kind of life he has as a kid.When a new book gets published in her adult years, an unlikely encounter with the real Ben makes her realise that what the golden boy of her favourite books actually needed was love and empathy, not envy.--- this is an impulse burst of writing creativity for the fanfic artists who drew countless little ben sketches and this is my love letter to y’all, name yourselves.





	1. Chapter 1

In the ratty, old bookshelves of the foster care, there was an excellent collection of books for the children to read. As a kid, Rey especially loved the Solo series – a children’s book written by famous auteur Leia Organa, with her husband, Han Solo, as the illustrator.

For the entirety of her childhood, the books were Rey’s means to escape her dull life in the foster care home. She envied Ben Solo, the protagonist child of the series and the adventures he goes on in it: His first day at a uniform school, his first painting class, his first piano recital … all his first’s that Rey could only ever dream of having.

The books, with all its drawings of a raven-haired, wide-eyed kid, introduced the bigger world to little Rey. It was popular among all the foster kids, but nobody loved it as much Rey did.

In the book _Being Ben: Flying Solo_ , little Benjamin takes his first solo plane trip across the country to join his parents for a holiday. Rey memorized every single detail: Little Ben gets accompanied by a kind air stewardess across the busy airport to his boarding gate, Little Ben savours the seared breast chicken on his flight meal, Little Ben finally arrives at the airport, sees his doting parents waiting for him at the arrival. He waves goodbye to the very kind cabin crew who had been on his beck and call during the whole trip, and the book ends.

Among all the other books that chronicled Ben’s little adventures, Rey remembered _Flying Solo_ the most. For the ending was a happy one: Ben landing safely with his parents alive and well at the waiting line.

That was the happy ending Rey wished she got. As a kid, she resented Little Ben for it. She had no memories of her parents. All she’s been told was that her parents died in a fateful Concorde flight. For so long the adults say that her parents were stranded on an island that the world is still trying to locate. And with that information, she associated islands with isolation and despair.

So when _Being Ben: Naboo Nights_ came out, to say she was confused was an understatement. How could a family possibly enjoy their time on a remote island? The book illustrates Little Ben sipping on a lemonade glass that’s too large for his tiny body under the glaring sun. On another page, he is drawn as trying out sunglasses in the tourist shop. He carries a plastic camera with him when his mother refuses to hand him her expensive one.

In spite of her envy, Rey still read the books and marveled at the watercolor illustrations. The  illustrations mainly focused on Ben naturally: any background adult characters were drawn as too tall for the book pages to accommodate, so it’s a bunch of sketches of Ben looking up or trying to reach something that’s a little too high for him. Little Ben saying goodbye to his grandmother on the tall hospital bed, Little Ben pulling a tall stool that he could climb on so that he could comfortably try out calligraphy, Little Ben climbing up Uncle Chewie to get a better view of his mother on the podium …

One day, the series stops publishing new stories. With no more new adventures with Ben, young Rey has no more reason to speculate on what her life would be like if she had the kind of happiness he had.

Fast forward ten years later, a twenty-three year old Rey is walking past the local bookstore from work (she’s a reader for the local publishing company). It was typical for her to make a passing glance at the window display to see if there were any titles that might be of interest to her. But instead of re-published classics sold at better prices or a new cookbook to try out, on the display that fateful day was none other then _Being Ben: An Adventure of a Lifetime!_.

Rey bought the book as quickly as she first saw it and rushed back home to quickly skim through its contents. With her cat Beebee lazing on her lap, a cup of chamomile tea on her side, she settled herself on her chair to prime herself to read.

The first surprise about the book was that it’s no longer just a thin, short story children’s art book. It was very thick, and had double the texts, and double the illustrations that go with it. A quick glance through the pages revealed to her that this book chronicled all the milestones of Ben – who is also not so little anymore.

In the illustrations, Ben is a towering character amongst the rest. The book jumped somewhere between pre-puberty and post-puberty, and in it was where Rey could see how tall Ben had grown. Ben grows from a chubby, curious young boy, to a langy-drawn teenager with large but charming ears. The short chapters talk about him winning second prize for a poetry contest in high school, how he escaped the house to stay with Uncle Luke when his parents were arguing and on the brink of divorce, him going to college, clinching a prestigious internship with world-renowned tech company First Order Industries, how he built so many programmes, gained much recognition for it, enjoyed the fruits of his labour which included a penthouse all to himself – all at the expense of the time he lost with his family.

Those were very realistic and dark chapters that even Rey had not expected. For so long she thought Benjamin Solo was the kid whose life everyone wanted. But after reading the middle chapters, she only feels sympathy for the rough situations he had to go through, only to come out as such a removed and detached character.

The last few chapters however resolves all that in a bittersweet chapter. Ben first realizes how miserable his life is and all the family ties he’s lost. He goes back to them when news of his father being stricken with cancer reaches him, and he reconciles with his parents who never got that divorce and the uncle whom he had sworn never to see again.

By this point, Rey’s chest is heavy with emotions. She thinks she’s reached the final chapter but there’s an unexpected epilogue: it’s at Ben’s wedding, with the most perfectly-described woman, and all his family are there. The tone of the epilogue is jarring. It’s too happy-go-lucky, too sugary sweet for the bittersweet coming-of-age extravaganza story – like a Disney fairytale.

Rey is confounded at first. She feels envy creeping at the back of her head. Envy for how easy and perfect Ben’s life had become. But she cannot bring herself to fully engage with that emotion. Instead, she finds herself laughing hysterically to herself, in the loneliness of her rackety apartment.

She was a _reader_ after all. She essentially earns a living by reading drafts and sifting through a pile of hopefuls to find that one piece of treasure which the publishing house can furnish for the world to read.

This book was not one for the world.

She doesn’t know how it could get published with such a cop-out ending. She turns to the back of the paperback book to check the reviews. Only a select few local praises, but none from the usual established critic houses.

Rey sets the book aside, and pulls out her laptop to see what others have thought of the book. On Goodreads, it’s rated 4.5 stars and she almost gags. Everyone loves the ending. A few wiser one say that the epilogue could have been left out, but such posts are flooded with a bunch of defensive replies by those who want to protect the book.

Rey searches if Han Solo really had cancer. To her surprise, that part of the book was purely fictionalized.

“There’s a reason why we had to write it that way,” Han says in one interview on Youtube. “For our sake, and our son’s sake, we’d like to keep the real details of that chapter to ourselves.”

The interviewer graciously lets his answer pass and goes on with the next question.

“So, _where_ is Ben Solo?”

And like a cheeky child, Han merely zips his mouth and smirks at the camera.

Naturally, Rey searches Ben Solo on Google next. A list of breaking news articles pop up.

**_First Order Whistleblower_ **

**_Public Data Protector_ **

**_An Unlikely, Not-So Fiction Hero: Kylo Ren_ **

“Holy fuck.”

Rey cannot believe what she’s seeing. News of Ben Solo, who had so long gone by a professional alias, Kylo Ren, was being hailed as a modern-day tech hero. There’s almost no pictures of him so she can only think of the illustrations of an older, more adult Ben from the latest book.

Rey has heard of news of an important whistleblower before. It was an on-going news topic with vague details for over two years. But little did she know that these were all related to the very perfect Ben Solo of her childhood.

All the details of the saga are culminating in a major expose now, and she cannot believe it comes with a _goddamn children’s book_.

She tries another search and finds that there’s going to be a book signing by Leia Organa and Han Solo at the next town. She estimates it to be a quick hour’s drive away and decides to get her book signed – with the improbable chance of getting to ask about the ending.

 

\+ + +

 

The mall is crowded. There’s too many people. And the instructions clearly say that Ms Leia Organa and Mr Han Solo will only sign copies of their _Adventure of a Lifetime!_ and none of the others. Which everyone seems to be following obediently.

Everyone except Rey.

She finds herself watching the line instead of joining it, with her hands clutched tightly to her old copy of _Flying Solo_ which she long stole from the foster care home. The bodyguards won’t let her queue, for obvious reasons. She could whip out the latest book she bought but that’s not the book she has the most emotional attachment for.

Rey settles for watching the scene from the side instead. Leia and Han seem very happy to be signing their new books for both young and old fans.

There are parents who have brought their children with them. Some tell the author-illustrator duo how they were big fans of their books and how their own children have started to love them too.

Another bravely asks if they would ever let Ben go on a signing with them.

Rey hears Leia’s reply as something like, “The invitation is always open to him. But my son’s a little tired today.”

“I bet he’s very handsome,” one says in reply. “Mr Solo draws so well!”

Rey watches the proud parents thank their fans as the next one comes in with another series of questions as they sign their copies.

“ – Are you a scalper?” A voice comes from behind her.

Rey whips around to look and is affronted by the towering height of a stranger. He’s casually dressed: a plain tee shirt with khakis and a baseball hat that causes his dark hair to stand out a little at the bottom.

“Excuse me?”

He nods to the copy of _Flying Solo_ which she’s still clutching at.

“That’s the limited edition cover,” he says. “I assume they won’t let you get that signed because it’s not the new one, right?”

Rey looks at the book in her hand. She shakes her head.

“I hadn’t realized that.”

“There’s a way. To get that signed.”

Rey’s brows jump. “Really? How?”

The man looks up to peer at the background behind her. He thinks for a moment before stretching his hand for the book.

“You can meet me back at this spot at four later.”

Rey blinks at him and purses her lip. “How will I know that you won’t run off with the book?”

He blinks back at her. “Because I already have one. At home.”

Deciding to just let it be, she hands him the book. It’s her prized possession, but even if the stranger does not fulfil his promise, Rey convinces herself that she can live without it. It’s hard to tell herself that but she gives in anyway.

“Can I at least get your number? For assurance.”

The stranger was about to walk away with the book when she asked.

He graciously nods and she pulls out her phone. He keys in his number and presses the call button. A ringing sound starts from the back of his pocket and the stranger lifts up a brow at Rey as if to ask, “Do you feel assured now?”

He walks away and Rey looks down at her phone.

There’s no name, because the number is merely keyed in but not saved. So she saves the number in her contacts as **_RAT HIM OUT IF HE DOES NOT COME AT 4_**.

 

\+ + +

 

By four, she receives a text from the guy.

**_I’m a little delayed_ **

**_Can you wait another hour?_ **

She glances at it and decides to go with it.

**_Ok_ **

**_But could you find me at Maz’s instead?_ **

**_I’ll be having an early dinner_ **

She does not receive a reply after a few minutes of sending it. Still, she decides he will follow through his promise. Rey has a tendency to have an excess of good faith in people, even to the point of being chided by her closest friend, Finn. So this was not an isolated case.

 

\+ + +

 

The guy arrives around ten minutes to five, when she’s already halfway finished with her food.

He places the book before her and opens up the cover to present the signed page in all its glory. Leia’s cursive signature contrasts the hard lines of Han’s one.

Rey squeals. And this surprises the stranger, who pulls his hand away in fear of getting bitten. But instead of teeth, he suddenly feels her hand around his. She’s gripping him tight with excitement.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Thank you so much!”

Her smile must have been contagious because the stranger’s harsh, judgmental look lifts into a small smile for her.

“How can I pay you?”

He seems surprised at her offer for his act of kindness.

“Don’t need to. Just sell it at a lower price for those who want it.”

At this, Rey’s face falls.

“What? I’m not selling it.” She looks down at the book and holds it to her chest. “I wasn’t going to.”

This piece of information seems to surprise the stranger.

“But it’s a limited edition cover.”

“And it’s my favourite amongst the other books.”

The stranger takes off his cap and runs his hands through his dark hair. His hands are big, Rey thinks. Surprise is evidently etched on his face and he helps himself to the seat opposite hers.

Rey eyes him warily. He’s got a strong nose, with a not so proportional face but there’s still something unconventionally attractive about him.

She clears her throat. “So how’d you get their signatures? Or are these counterfeits?”

The guy laughs a bit and shakes his head. “No, I assure you they’re not fake. You’re just going to have to trust me on that one.”

Rey lets a small grin emerge on her face at this. His eyes on her are intense so she shyly looks back at the signatures and marvel at them.

“Man, I wonder how it’s like to write successful books about your own son. It must take quite a lot of inspiration from real life events. What a life their family probably has.”

She’s oblivious to the way the stranger shifts awkwardly on his seat.

“I was always jealous of him growing up – can you believe it? I thought I’d be over it but when the new book came out, suddenly I’m a kid again.”

The man leans in on the table, clearly intrigued. “What’s there to be jealous of?”

“His perfect life, _of course_ ,” Rey scoffs. She fiddles a little with the pages of the book and shook her head. “He seemed to have everything at the right place and at the right time.”

“That’s not true.”

“This book says it all. _Flying Solo_ is my favourite because of how everything is so well-timed for him.”

“But that’s boring.”

“ – He wants food on the plane. He gets it. He wants to change seats, he gets it. He lifts up the cranky old woman’s mood by being his charming self. And when he lands, his parents are already there ready to pick him up and go on to their next adventure.”

“It’s fiction, you know that?”

“It’s based on their real-life son.”

She doesn’t notice how agitated the stranger has become.

“Well, take it from me, the ending of that isn’t as happy as it may seem.”

“And why not?”

There’s a momentary silence where the stranger thinks to himself, as if deciding what’s right and wrong.

“You think he’s got such a picture-perfect life, but what really happened after this book? His parents were too busy to entertain him – needless to say to be _present_ around him. They left him at the hotel’s childcare services everyday of that trip while they went off with their very serious adult matters and businesses.”

Rey frowns at him. “Is that the way you interpret the book?”

He looks at her, perplexed, before shaking his head.

“No, that’s _how_ it happened.”

Rey laughs and the stranger merely watches her. When she’s finished, she nods in affirmation at him, as if to say “good one”.

“And what are you,” she finally speaks, irritated at his insistence of what the truth was. “A close friend or something?”

The man was already getting up. Pulling out a couple of bills to cover for her unpaid food, without being asked. He wasn’t obligated to so this confuses her.

“Because those books were based on _me_.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the overwhelming response :) I've included a chapter estimate that I hope to progress through with every week. Ratings are ambiguous as of now but will be appropriately tagged. Also, after really thinking hard about refining this chapter, I'm now quite excited to play around with these two for the subsequent chapters. 
> 
> I hope you like this one!

Rey’s distracted.

Instead of finishing her usual nightly read, she’s got _Naboo Nights_ pulled out that evening. Had it not been for her surreal encounter with _the_ Ben Solo, she would have continued with the reading she had halted after seeing a new instalment of her favourite children’s book.

Maybe it was the way Ben Solo had walked away from her, like he was repulsed, that made her feel _so_ sick of herself the whole day. Who wouldn’t when the only opportunity to speak to your childhood dream is right in front of you and you fuck it up?

She had not the gall to call after him then, so the last thing she saw was him tossing bills on her table and leaving. It took her an hour’s worth of pondering after to realise that him walking away might have been the result of her refusal to entertain what he was saying.

Rey truly is disgusted with her conduct now. How obnoxious of her.

That’s why she finds herself scouring through the pages of _Naboo Nights_ , replaying the only words that her distracted mind managed to retain from what Ben had been saying.

“ _His parents were too busy to entertain him - They left him at the hotel everyday of that trip while they went off with their very serious adult matters and businesses_.”

As Rey flips through the pages of _Naboo Nights_ – the book that comes right after _Flying Solo_ – the tiniest details that she never really thought of before are now shaping up to what he had said. It _is_ strange to have a book centered on a boy whose wandering on an island all by himself when it’s supposed to be a family vacation _with_ his parents.

Rey studies Han Solo’s illustrations of his son, but this time through a different set of lenses. There was something odd in Little Ben’s face. She notices for the first time that there’s almost a hint of sadness in his eyes when another kid holding his guardian’s hand walk by. She compares the illustrations of Little Ben across the pages of _Naboo Nights_ , then later with the other instalments of the series. It takes her the whole night, but she does not stop. She’s engrossed.

Ben smiles a lot less with every new book. One might attribute it to growing up, but these books were mainly centered around the first ten years of his life. Surely, normal kids that age smiled very frequently.

Ever since her brief encounter with Ben, Rey’s felt a lot of emotions bottled in her chest: wander, excitement, chills and sheer disgust for herself.

She should have engaged him better.

Maybe that way she would have found out more about which part of the books have been fiction all along.

God, she wished she had another chance to meet him again.

She takes a look at the book which he got signed for her and she feels another wave of frustration at herself.

_Why hadn’t she asked for his too?_

 

\+ + +

 

“You’re looking very weary today, child.”

Sir Kenobi is peering at Rey from his desk the next morning at work. She’s been reading the same draft for the past hour and nothing retains in her head. She could do herself a favour and simply dump the draft and say that it’s not worth the consideration. But that would go against everything that the small but strongly-convicted Kenobi Publishing stands for.

“Rey?” The old man repeats himself when she doesn’t notice.

“Hm?”

“You’re very distracted.”

She perks up. “Yes, I am, sir.”

Sir Kenobi watches her, prompting her to further explain herself.

“My head’s been wrapped up in these books I’ve started reading again.”

“Anything I know of?”

Rey scratches her head, unwilling to divulge the details of her childhood favourite. But Sir Kenobi has long been her mentor and the only one who seemed keen enough to give her a job when she was desperate and lost career-wise. So she tells him.

“It’s an old children’s book. ‘Being Ben’? I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it.”

“The one by Leia and Han? They did a book signing the other day, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did.” Rey makes to pull out her copy of _Flying Solo_ . Her mind lingers to the memory of the kind stranger’s hands on it just. “In fact, someone was able to get me signatures.”

Sir Kenobi makes to stand from his desk with the help of his cane to approach Rey and peer at the signed book.

“Kindness is a beautiful thing isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, this actually reminds me: I’m old friends with the creators of this series. They’re hosting a book launch celebration tomorrow night, and they’ve invited me. And a plus one.”

“Sir?”

“Now that you tell me this, I’m sure you’d like to come and talk to them.”

For a moment, Rey lights up with hopeful excitement. But this quickly dims down at the realisation of something. Her immediate change in demeanor baffles Sir Kenobi.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’ve got other readings to catch up on.”

 _As if those were the most important things on her list now_.

The truth is that she is easily daunted by the prospect of mingling with people. The last time she had accompanied Sir Kenobi to a private book launch, she could barely speak up. There she had been, surrounded by very intellectual people of high caliber that matches that of Sir Kenobi’s, and all she could do was stand like a prop. An aid to her old boss.

“Rey.”

“I think I’ll pass, sir.”

“Would I need to make this an official job for you if that makes you go?”

“Sir. I-I don’t mingle well with people.”

It was true. Her education was a humble one, and her numbered stints as a waitress in a high-end restaurant gave her ample opportunities to eavesdrop on highly-esteemed people and their conversations.

Rey has enough self-awareness of her underwhelming caliber and her lacking world experience to be a contributive conversationalist.

“But you loved the books as a child, didn’t you?” The old man does not look accepting of Rey’s insistence to opt out of this opportunity. “It’s hard to forget how much you referenced the books to sell your point through in your job application here, now that I think about it. And now that you get to meet its creators, you refuse it?”

“Um, that’s right.” Rey makes to speak to defend her case but gets cut off again.

“ - I think it’s about time you start to learn to network.”

This stops her in her thoughts.

“Why would I need to do that?”

Sir Kenobi returns to his desk and pulls open a drawer that was specifically used to safekeep Rey’s personal drafts. She would submit something to him for his perusal every once in a while; a bunch of half-done scripts that never saw the light because she could not find herself to get on with it or see the point of finishing any of them.

Sir Kenobi had specifically requested her works to be submitted to him to give her good critique when he caught her once scribbling down poems and stories one time. 

“This publishing house can only do so much for you, girl. And I think you’ll be able to meet great people tonight who might take your work to the next level if you talk to them about it.”

“But I’m perfectly content here, sir.”

Rey feels her old mentor regard her carefully.

“Are you, really?”

 

\+ + +

 

He didn’t know what made him approach the girl. Especially when he already presumed she was merely trying to get signatures to sell on ebay.

If it had been an uncanny desire to do something nice for the sake of it, even _he_ has a hard time believing that of himself.

But the way she had looked up at him as if he was Santa Claus lingers on his mind. When she saw the signatures on her book, she had looked at him like he did the one right thing in his life.

And it felt good.

Even just for a brief while - before she started imposing ideas on how conveniently easy his life seemed. Even if she was referring to the book, and _not_ _his actual life_ , it’s hard to deny how stinging it felt to hear her let out all of her assumptions about him based on an arguably dull character.

She had looked almost spiteful, however, when she spoke about fiction-Ben’s adventures. As if _he_ was at fault for being fed off a silver spoon.

All he remembers from his encounter with the girl is walking away. She did not call after him when he left. The lack of conclusion in their encounter plagues his thoughts. A symptom of having lived a very uneventful personal life outside of his otherwise controversial career.

“You should get out more,” Leia had told him once before. It had been a passing moment on one of the days that felt domestic after he had reconciled with his parents. “Live your life like it’s your early twenties.”

Ben’s twenty-nine, just a few months short to his thirtieth. And the thought of another birthday is enough reminder of how his twenties was a complete black hole. Not even out of college and he was already investing all of his time in mastering his programming craft, until he was worthy enough to be accepted into the F.O Apprenticeship. It was there that he focused his life entirely on the First Order and their portfolio management, appeasing then-CEO Snoke, and climbing the corporate ladder rapidly to become a highly-established quant.

Then the fall-out happened. Some highly-complex money laundering scam that involved an insidious algorithm involving manipulating millions of personal data to maximise returns. He hadn’t done it for the world when he chose to whistleblow. The media exaggerated his ‘act of courage’ and the whole world bought into this redemptive-sounding act.

Especially his parents.

It seemed like the most conceivable arc for a morally-loose guy like him. The world will not be able to accept the truth of his ludicrous situation. It was easier to be labelled a hero when the results of his actions greatly outweigh the weight of his individual wrongs.

And because he’s not a saint, or anyone who can give two more shits, he does not even try to correct anyone about the story.

Let them run whatever story that panders to readers’ morality.

He couldn’t care less.

In fact, it doesn’t matter _at all_ to him. He’s a free man. A _lucky_ one who’s given another shot at civilian life unlike Snoke, whose role he had been at the brink of assuming.

But as much as he tells himself that he couldn’t be bothered with what the world thinks – so long as he was legally safe and perceived to be on the right side of the law – the truth was that he still is _very_ much affected by the conversation around him.

The headlines praising him as a hero the world didn’t deserve were enough to nauseate him. Kylo Ren was anything but a good guy, a heroic type. Amidst all this talk, he can only be thankful that his legal team are able to protect his image to certain extents (one being that his image cannot be so freely used for publications nor found on the internet).

To think that the world was hailing Kylo Ren né Ben Solo as a modern-day hero was utter buffoonery.

The only reason he had chosen to turn his back on the First Order was because of some petty internal politicking: a bunch of trivial situations amalgamated, with rash impulsive stakeholders who shouldn’t have been holding so much decision-making power.

Not so incidentally, Kylo Ren had been one of them.

If it had not been him to rat out on the company, it would have been someone else who cracked under the pressure and utter misery first.

His mind floats to the image of Armitage Hux and Phasma sneering down at him for being the first to crack. No amount of praises from the world can cover those ugly faces from his memory. They were probably more than pleased to see him go. After all of their intense dick-measuring rivalry, it was no secret that they had been envious of his closeness to Snoke, and how he was the obvious candidate to take after the mogul’s place.

So when the girl with the copy of _Flying Solo_ appeared to look almost disdainful when he gave her an alternate reality to the book, he was immediately transported back to the F.O. office: in a conference room, with high stakes behind his quantitative brief, his reputation on the line, and a sick anticipatory feeling of another berating from Snoke awaiting him.

Unlike his former-apprentice self however, he now could not be any more affected by anyone else’s thoughts about him. Which, again, explains why his first thought in a dead-end conversation with the girl was to leave.

Ben’s reading one of the chapters of his parents’ new book, recalling the bits that the girl had mentioned and had said a lot about in their short time together. There was one thing she was right about: everything was too perfectly timed for him. He cannot compare the reality behind his parents’ work, but there definitely was reason for her comment at least.

“Solo, I need you to get dressed.”

He looks up. It’s Holdo. His mother’s longtime publicist – and now his, apparently. Or at least until the media frenzy dies down in time.

“Your parents’ book launch party.”

“Our terms state that I am not obliged to.”

“Yes. Unless deemed necessary by external negative commentary.”

Ben looks up. “ _What_ negative commentary?”

Holdo hands him the local newspaper. It’s opened to the opinion section. One contribution is provokingly titled to suggest that his parents’ new book is an attempt to paint their son innocent.

> _Why else have we not seen him? We should not be easily swayed by these powerful families’ gimmicks and buy into this hero-façade they are making out of their son. The First Order is an organization that succeeded because of their carefully selected talent pool: hungry individuals with insatiable ambition. I would not be fooled into thinking that Kylo Ren - who walks guilt-free as Ben Solo today - did all that for selfless reasons._

His first instinct is to check the name of the contributor. It’s a Matt.

_Well, fuck you, Matt._

“You know I wouldn’t let this spark some conversation that gets too big for us to counter,” Holdo says. She’s got the upper-hand of this deal and knows it. “I’ve booked you a stylist. You will join and show your face at the launch party.”

“What am I supposed to say there?”

“Be the charming Little Ben that you were,” Holdo says, a smile stretching on her caked face. He can’t tell if she’s kidding and his stomach curls at the mention of ‘Little Ben’.

Holdo sees the visible discomfort on Ben’s already stoic face.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a private event. I won’t let you get eaten up by the press today.”

She turns to leave but halts halfway when she recalls something.

“It’ll do good to both you and your parents if word seeps out from tonight’s audience that you were around.”

 

\+ + +

 

When Holdo said it was going to be a private event, he should have assumed better of her. The book launch party is hosted at an exclusive country club with a bunch of silverfoxes in meticulous suits, and gracefully-aged women in expensive perfume. The majority of the night’s attendees were around Leia and Han’s age – most of whom are long-time friends or strategic connections.

Ben studies the crowd from the bar, sipping onto his gin and tonic and requesting the bartender to prepare another as soon as he downs the remains of his second glass.

There was no way he was going to be talking to his parents’ old friends and have conversations that conveniently ignore what happened to him post-grad.

He’s too distracted by his own irritation to realise that Han has joined his side at the bar.

They don’t speak much to each other.

The Solo men are the classic example of intimacy issues. They’re not very expressive of their true feelings, which has long been the main awkward point between father and son. That night however, as Han eyes his son’s third glass, he clears his gruff throat as if to signal an incoming conversation to mentally prepare his son.

“Rowdy night, huh?” Han attempts to jest.

His sarcasm is well noted when both of them quietly watch rich and powerful men and women socialize among one another like it was a staged performance.

“Where’s mom?”

Ben’s question is loaded even when he does not mean anything. He only wanted to fill the silence. He can’t help that such an innocent question would serve as an awkward reminder of the tensest part of his parents’ marriage. There are only very few phrases he ever spoke to his father, back when he would find him alone in the house after what he suspects to be an ugly fight with his mom.

Han notes the implicit reminder they’re both given but takes the question for what it is. “You know she’s the naturally social one between us. I came here to look for you.”

Ben takes a drink from his glass, his eyes still laser-focused on the crowd before him.

“I don’t really want to garner any attention with you by my side,” he says frankly. He notes the increase in glances that are thrown his way. It has increased the moment Han stood beside him.

“This is your night too, Ben.”

“I’m not your fiction-Ben.”

“Do you hate the book so much, son?”

Ben pauses. ‘Hate’ is such a strong word. It was definitely the word to describe his relationship with the books while growing up: having an idealized version of yourself being written alongside every step of your life, knowing that you’re always not enough in reality, and that your parents desire so much more out of you.

All of those can seriously fuck up a child’s esteem and sense of reality.

But he’s long past ‘hatred’ now. He’s above both the books and the idealized version of himself. All because he learned to view that his parents are not the best people in the world, and that their opinion hardly matters to him anymore.

He only wants to maintain an amicable relationship with them. But nothing more.

That’s why he likes to keep things to himself. In fear that whatever he says will be twisted by his parents into something that they can write a book out of.

“My opinion hardly matters,” he tells his old man in finality.

There’s a sad look in his eyes, but Han is quick to conceal it with a generous grin. He used to be so sparing with his smiles before they lost Ben.

“Do you remember Old Ben Kenobi?”

Ben nods, indulging his father’s ungraceful change in topic. “Sure.”

“He’s here today. I think your mother’s talking to him right now.” Han’s eyes have locked onto something. “If there’s one person you should at least talk to, it should be him.”

With a suppressed sigh, Ben gives in. He tells himself it’s to appease his father who was clearly trying. Han was clearly making up for all the times he was as good as an absent father to him. Ben will acknowledge the effort.

They approach Leia and the very senior looking man. They seem to be very deep in their conversation already. But the old man, whose hair is so white one might mistake them for a collection of feather peppering his head, looks up at the sight of Ben. His eyes widen to reveal his cataract-laden irises.

“I could not have wished to finally see you again in the flesh, my namesake.”

To Ben’s surprise, Kenobi raises both his arms, including the one that’s carrying a cane to beckon him into a hug. Like a grandfather would. Ben does not have much memories of Kenobi, except for the very few times he had visited them when he was too young to remember vividly.

“I feel my life is complete now that I see you in your height and glory.”

Ben’s only slighty amused by the old man’s choice of words. “Ditto.”

“How have you been?”

Leia chooses that moment to join in the conversation again. “Ben has kindly agreed to join us in our book tour.”

“Just for this town, actually.”

“ - To wind down from the chaos and find his place again.”

Sir Kenobi laughs heartily at this, wheezing a little as a consequence for stressing out his lungs. “Retirement never felt so good, huh?”

Han laughs along and Ben indulges them again by nodding. He brings his glass up for a drink. The old friends start to talk about retirement plans in a short span of time and he’s grateful for the reprieve.

He is peering over the rim of his glass when another figure appears behind Sir Kenobi. And he instantly recognizes her as the girl with the copy of _Flying Solo_. His eyes widen at the sight.

She’s handing a drink to Sir Kenobi, who thanks her gratefully as ‘Rey’.

So _that_ was her name.

Ben’s still surprised to see her. He does not realise how she has turned to him with a hesitant look on her face That is, until she smiled uncertainly at him. She has the graciousness to smile at him at least.

He does not.

“Rey, these are my old friends,” Sir Kenobi begins to say, waving his hand to introduce Leia and Han. “But I believe you know them already.”

Rey cannot help the excited beam stretch on her face as she glances from Sir Kenobi to the legendary author-illustrator duo – _and Ben_ – in front of her.

She purses her lips, priming herself to speak and say something nice. Her nerves are quick to catch up to her however. She takes a second too long that Leia has beaten her to speak first.

“It’s very nice to meet you, dear. Are you Old Ben’s understudy?”

Rey finds her voice in that moment. “Of sorts.”

“Rey selects the drafts that she deems worthy of further consideration.”

Han and Leia look at her with an impressed look. Ben’s face is perfectly blank.

“I’m just a reader, actually.”

“So what makes a good work, Rey?” Han asks. “If Old Ben here trusts you so much to select what drafts reach him, what standards do you uphold?”

It’s a mouthful of a question, she thinks. She opens her mouth to speak, a thousand ideas flooding her mind and fighting to get vocalized.

But as if her brain short-circuits, she stammers a little and says instead, “I must like it.”

At this, Ben’s brows rise in condescending surprise. He lifts his drink up to his lips and shakes his head, hiding the hint of amusement on his face.

She sees his reaction from the periphery of her view.

“Are you a reader too?” She unexpectedly asks him.

He was not prepared to suddenly be the direct recipient of her attention, so he is slightly taken aback by this.

“No, I’m not,” he admits. Stirring his glass a little to think, he adds on for the sake of conversation, “I can’t help but wonder if there’s something awfully funny about having these hopeful writers’ fates in the hands of someone biased.”

“ _Ben_.”

Rey nods in spite of Han and Leia’s warning to him. “I understand.”

He stares at her. She says nothing else and looks to the other adults to take the wheel of the conversation.

Her lack of retaliation baffles Ben then. He seems almost unsatisfied to have her concede so easily. He’s never met someone who is so quick to refuse a challenge.

He narrows his eyes on her, but Rey makes it a point to not meet his eyes. He can’t tell if she’s offended or just downright refusing to entertain him with her answers.

“Tell me, Rey,” Leia speaks, “Are you an aspiring writer yourself?”

Rey thinks on her answer. This time, it’s Sir Kenobi who speaks before she does.

“She’s a writer of great potential,” he promises them. It makes Rey flush a little, causing her to accidentally meet Ben’s steely gaze, which only makes her warmer.

“Potential _is_ promising,” Han supplies.

And before she knows it, the old friends are talking about their experiences getting started, completely oblivious to the now-obsolete topic at hand. Rey’s throat is tight. She had already formed what to say, but time has beaten her to it again.

She quietly excuses herself to check the dessert table and does not notice the shadow that follows her.

“Not quite the talker, are you?”

She jumps. When she sees it’s Ben behind her, she glowers at him. “I’m working on it.”

“It’s surprising how that didn’t come through the other day.”

She sees his face and is sickened at the hint of smugness on it. To think that this was the boy she looked up to.

“I’m sorry if that had offended you in any way.”

She seems to have captured his fullest attention now. It’s unsettling.

“But now that I see you again, I want you to know that I didn’t mean to.” Rey meets his eye and shrugs. “As you’ve noticed, I’m not great with talking.”

He frowns at her now. “I wouldn’t have had a problem with your talking if you were at least a decent listener.”

Rey’s mouth falls. The candor of this man. She wants to say something. But she cannot. Not because her mouth is too slow for her brain now, but because she knows he’s right.

“Well, okay. I’m sorry for that too.”

“Much better.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to help herself to some of the pastries served that night. It looks creamy and expensive. She might get a stomach flu if she takes too many so she unthinkingly offers her plate to be shared with him while he’s still there.

Ben eyes it and helps himself. His fingers are too large for the custard he takes. His largeness makes her think again. Who would have thought that she would be sharing a dessert plate in the middle of a crowd with Benjamin Solo himself.

She stuffs her mouth full, suddenly flustered at the idea of being so near to him. It had not dawned unto her the day before, not when she was with Sir Kenobi and his parents, but now, the realisation of his sheer magnitude and his solid presence is intoxicating.

It’s not just the perfume he has spritzed on.

“You know,” she makes to say, her mouth ungracefully full. “My mind’s been racking up reasons for why you would help me get your parents’ signatures.”

Ben is quiet as he helps himself to another pastry. Upon swallowing, he shakes his head. “Just felt like it.”

“You thought I was a scalper.”

“That I did.”

“And yet you got me their signatures. Without wanting anything else in return. Did you not have anything better to do?”

He looks at her, studying her with such a piercing gaze even though his eyes were a dark shade of brown under the hood of his brows.

“I was practising kindness.” It’s meant to be a deadpan joke but something about it resonates with his deeper, complex feelings.

“And selflessness, is that it?” She’s quick to play along, much to her oblivion to his brief existential crisis.

He nods and finally lets a small grin at her way.

They finish their pastries in no time. It’s a quiet affair, away from the other socialites. She appreciates his presence, even though she is sure that the other attendees would love to have a share of his time too.

“My name’s Rey,” she blurts out. “Just so you’d know. Is Ben really your name too?”

When she receives a frown from him, she quickly explains herself.

“I just think that, with you telling me alternate realities to the books, I just had to be sure, you know? I wouldn’t know if your parents used an alias for you.”

She makes a point and he sees it.

“Very smart of you.”

“Please don’t patronize me.”

He laughs softly, which she returns in exchange. Her chuckle is a lovely sound.

“My name _is_ Ben. And yes, my life would’ve been a lot better if my parents had taken your advice.”

He sees Rey genuinely smile at him now. At least they’re getting along nicely and he likes her presence.

“Is there anything from the books that your parents had to make up?”

“Definitely.”

“Would you tell me?”

He looks at her. Her eyes are wary but hopeful now, like she needed a key from him to unlock something within her.

“You’ll have to tell me something in turn,” he says carefully. “I’m not such a selfless person.”

He’s very transactional. Just like he’s been long trained to be in all of his relationships and decision-making points.

Rey’s brows rise a little at surprise. “What would you want to know from me?”

“Anything,” he says easily. _Why is he doing this?_

“I just don’t want to be interviewed, that’s all.”

Rey thinks.

“I can make that work.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t think he’s coming anymore.”

“Rey, it’s only been a few minutes.”

“We agreed to meet at twelve on the clock.”

“Not everyone is _on the clock_ as you are.”

Finn gives her a look before returning to his Android game. The heat under the sun is clearly testing his general patience. And Rey’s incessant anxiety does not help anything.

“Maybe I’m just too naïve.”

“There! Is that him?”

Rey whips her head so fast. The disappointment is crushing when she realizes that Finn was just messing with her.

“What?” Finn is unfazed by the glower in her eyes. “There’s nothing striking about _tall, pale_ and _dark hair_.”

Rey had vaguely described her encounter with Ben to Finn. Finn would have known the books she loved, but as far as she knows it, her closest friend could not be any more interested in the private fantasies she’s had of Ben Solo. He would have no clue on who Ben Solo is.

“Are you sure this isn’t a date?” Finn asks for the nth time ever since she mentioned of her out-of-the-ordinary Saturday plans.

Saturdays are usually spent in the quiet solitude of her tiny apartment – which was why Finn was mildly surprised to hear her say that she was meeting someone that day. She had invited him to accompany her at their meeting place for fear of ending up having to deal with the crushing disappointment of Ben’s non-attendance. ~~~~

“I told you. It’s _not_ a date.”

“So why did you take so long to dress up?”

Finn catches her and she heats up at how well he sees through her. Rey had found herself in front of her mirror several times, in different outfits, earlier that day. Clearly, she was not one to fuss about her clothes, and Finn is quick to notice a deviance in her behavior.

The first outfit she had donned on was a plain summer dress with a Peter Pan collar that made her look like a nanny. She had taken it off immediately.

The second one was a striped dress which she would have been satisfied with had it not been for the hole she caught sight of in the underarm area. In the end, she wore a loose beige blouse to pair with her secondhand midi denim skirt.

She tells herself that she’s dressing up like she would for Finn – casual and unbothered. At least she wouldn’t look like she’s trying too hard to impress. She didn’t need that when Ben already has _such_ a good idea of how much of a fan she is of the books centered around him.

“I’ve never seen you this anxious since your job interview,” Finn notes. Rey shushes him.

Patience in waiting hasn’t been a problem for her. So it is an odd revelation that she now feels the opposite. Maybe it’s because she has such high hopes to meet Ben again. But the hopefulness and anticipation eats her up.

 _There’s nothing to lose if he doesn’t show up_ , she consoles herself.

She’s had quite a fortunate amount of opportunity to interact with the stars of her childhood dream. Surely, she will not be too disappointed if he flakes on her. At least that’s what she thinks.

Rey glances at her watch again and leans against the mail post. She wishes she wore a hat, or brought her shades. The sun is glaring on her and she can barely see through its blinding light.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” she finally says, dejection filling her heart. “Let’s go.”

Finn mutters something like “If you think so” as they turn. Rey has her head down, crestfallen by the crushed hopes for the day.

“He said he’d show up,” she tells Finn. “I didn’t think he’d be an asshole.”

Her voice is meek and hints the betrayal she’s wounded by. She should have thought better when Ben agreed to have lunch with her on a Saturday.

Who was she to ask him for his time? He was beyond her league and she had the balls to think he would agree to her.

 _Foolish_.

“Is that the asshole?”

Rey glares sideways at Finn. But his attention is fixed elsewhere. When she follows his line of gaze however, she sees _him_. Just a short distance away. He’s gotten off his motorcycle and is clipping his helmet securely to it just as he looked around the area in search for her.

Their eyes lock.

Finn does not miss a beat. He’s studying Ben from afar, and when he looks back at his best friend, there’s a disbelieving look on his face.

“You snatched _that_?” Finn almost guffaws. They see Ben ambling towards them now and Rey shuts him up. “Did you pick him up at a bar or something?”

“I think it’s time for you to go now, Finn.”

Ben reaches them and upon closer look, he has his signature scowl on. His eyes shift from Rey to Finn then back to Rey. His brow quirks up at her briefly.

Without further prompting, Rey clears her throat at Finn. He takes his cue like the good friend he is, but not without a stare down with Ben.

“You look familiar,” Finn mutters.

Ben and Rey exchange looks.

Instead of waiting for a response from either of them, Finn merely shrugs. “Alright, see you later, Rey.”

“See you.”

“Who’s he?” Ben asks as soon as Finn’s out of earshot.

“He’s my brother.”

Ben squints at her. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Just as hard as it is to wonder if you’d still show up today.” The venom is uncalled for but Rey could not help it.

Ben clearly is surprised by this. “I was held back by some errands,” he says slowly, his eyes wary on her now. With a further thought, he adds, “I’m not one to bail on promises.”

It’s Rey’s turn to lift a brow up at him. She shouldn’t have so much confidence to doubt him, given that they’ve just met, but she was feeling sure of herself now that he’s here.

“ _All_ promises?” She asks.

Ben rolls his eyes. “ _Most_ of them.”

Rey grins a bit and Ben shakes his head.

“Don’t get cocky for being an exception.”

 

\+ + +

 

When Ben said that it’s up to Rey to decide on the plan of their little arrangement, he had not expect her to bring him to a vintage shop. An old, poorly-maintained one, to be precise.

He does not show her his distaste as they walk through the dust-stained entrance. He couldn’t do so anyway when the look on her face in reaction to the chime that greets them is so pure and innocent.

“Why are we here?”

Rey glances back at him. “You said I could ask you what’s real and what’s not from the books,” she reminded. “This is where they house its full collection.”

“Isn’t there a library?”

“They don’t have it. The books aren’t so popular among kids anymore.”

“No offence taken on that.”

They reach the far end of the vintage store, where the bookshelves are. It smells of parched paper and antique dust. Ben sneezes out loud, making Rey jump from his loudness.

“’Scuse me,” he says. He’s ready to focus his attention on searching for his parents’ books on the shelves when Rey blocks his sight with something outstretched.

“Here.” She hands him her handkerchief. He eyes it suspiciously, which only prompts her to shake it in front of him. “We don’t want your dirt contaminating anything here.”

Ben takes the handkerchief and uses it. “ _Funny_.”

In the meanwhile, she pulls out a book from the shelf and starts flipping through it.

“I didn’t have the full collection, but I do remember some of the scenes in this one.”

She’s holding a copy of _Chasing Corellia_. Ben does not remember a lot of the books, but that copy stands out to him. Mainly because it was one of the last few books written, and he was old enough then to see his parents work on it.

He watches Rey lick her thumb briefly before flipping through the pages. Her eyes are dead set on finding a particular scene. She looks like she knows more than he does. Not that he knows a lot anyway.

“I’m just going to dive right in,” Rey says, her eyes casting cautiously at him. This baffles him.

“Shoot.”

“Did you really walk through the slums to find your dad?”

Rey can immediately tell that the question strikes a sensitive chord by the way he stiffens. He does not break the eye contact like a threatened animal would however. She swallows and elaborates, “I found this chapter very poignant.”

When Ben still does not speak, she continues, “It inspired me to go out into the world to look for my own parents before.”

“Why would you need to look for your parents?” It’s a quick distraction, but an effective one to help him come to his senses.

“They said they were stranded.”

“Did you look for them?”

“I couldn’t.”

Ben frowns at her, displeased with the inconclusive answer. Rey’s looking at him and he knows he’s asked too many questions without answering hers.

He shakes his head. “No, that part of the book isn’t true.”

He remembers where it was inspired from however. It only took Rey’s subtle flash of a dejected look to prompt him to say so.

“I vaguely remember that story being my father’s to tell,” he starts. Without meaning to, early memories emerge from the depths of his mind surprisingly: memories of the few times Han would recount vague childhood experiences to him as a kid.

“He was the one who went into the slums to look for his father. Not me. He wanted to find out what his true last name was but by the time he got there, the only description he got was a shipman who sailed the seas and never returned.”

“Oh.” Rey stammers a little at the revelation. “I didn’t know that.”

“’Course you wouldn’t,” Ben reminds her, a deadpan smugness to his tone. “That’s why we’re here. Next question.”

She looks like she still has a million more follow-up questions but decides against it. She flips through the pages again.

Ben studies her, perturbed by her devotion to his parents’ books.

“Why are you so obsessed with these?”

It’s meant to be a harmless question. He notes, however, the small flinch he inflicted on her. When she answers his question, he learns that she’s discomforted by what she has to say and not by what he had asked.

“All my life I’ve been pitting myself against this perfect character,” she half-whispers. Not that anyone else would be eavesdropping. She struggles to make eye contact as she busies herself with looking for a page in the book. “I thought that you were the model child and student that every parent would ever want and if I was like you, adults would like me enough to adopt me. That, or my parents would miraculously come back to get me.”

Ben squints.

“I feel like we skipped a million contexts here.”

“I grew up in the orphanage,” she says, immediately answering his implicit questions. “The folks there would say that my parents are lost in a stranded island – some Concorde air crash that happened. At first I wanted to grow up to become a geographer to study the lands and the seas to find them. Then I realized a pilot would make better sense. Then one day I researched for a Concorde air crash in the year 1993.”

Ben watches her carefully and the way she presses on in spite of the visibly uncomfortable look on her face. He has no will to stop her however.

“There was _no_ 1993 air crash,” she tells him. Her voice is too quiet. He has to strain his ears to hear her. “It was a convenient lie they told me just so I would stop asking the hard questions.”

“Jesus – I’m sorry.”

“S’alright. I’ve long accepted it.”

“How?”

“When these books stopped publishing.”

Rey licks her lips. “I had to grow up. By the last book, I learned to start finding my ownself and not anchor my self-worth on a fictional character – “ She halts for a while, thinking. “At least as far as I know.”

Ben rubs a hand down his face. “Is that why you wanted to get this _real_ or _not real_ questionnaire done so badly?”  

She doesn’t nod but the way she purses her lips tells him enough.

“Brilliant.”

“Don’t get so cocky,” she says back to him. “I haven’t been so affected since the latest book came out.”

“What about it?”

“That epilogue?  I mean, _come on_.” She’s almost smiling now - as if compelling him to get real with her. “That was the sleaziest cop-out in the history of all cop-outs.”

Ben only frowns at her. “What’s the ending?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“You got married.”

“What the _fuck_.”

“I know!”

Ben actually laughs, which gets Rey to burst out laughing too.

“Jesus, _that’s_ – that’s something there,” he manages to say. The idea of him getting married genuinely cracks him. He wants to laugh at it forever if not for Rey who gets her footing back first.

“I’m used to them writing improved versions of my past and present. But – _Jesus Christ_ – I never thought they’d actually write a future for me. I can’t believe I didn’t know this.”

“Didn’t you read your own parents’ books?”

It’s a genuine question from her. So it confuses her when Ben rolls his eyes at her.

“And put myself into the kind of misery where I’m explicitly told that I’m always falling short of my parents’ expectations? Fuck _no_.”

She eyes him, realization dawning unto her. He does not entertain whatever misunderstandings she’s had that’s now cleared up.

“Makes sense.”

“Next question.”

“Were you almost married then?”

“Are you paying attention? I’ve _never_ been close to that.”

“You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“Ok fine,” he gives in. “Now’s my turn. I might as well ask the same of you.”

“Yeah, I was almost married.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“A comedienne.”

They smile at each other. It’s a brief moment but it’s enough for Rey to quickly look away when the weird feeling in her chest overwhelms her. He has such a piercing gaze, she realizes.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Rey says, refocusing their attention to the book in hand.

The ending of _Chasing Corellia_ is an ambiguous one. It’s an ending where Ben does find his dad. But unlike before, he does not take his father’s hand like he would at the end of every book. It’s a small gesture, but it’s a very profound moment that would signal a complete conclusion and resolution.

The lack of it has always left her hanging from this book’s ending.

So inevitably, it’s the next question she asks. “You loved your father. Real or not real?”

Ben rolls his eyes. This time, it’s not in a humorous manner, but a visibly miffed one. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a past tense question.”

“I wouldn’t know what love is. I _befriend_ him. But that’s not the same as loving.”

Like before, he thinks she’s going to press on. Instead, she nods in acceptance. There's an awkward pause between them for a while - each thinking of what next to say or do. Rey's the first to know.

“That’s okay, I wouldn’t know too.”

She is calm about it. In fact, she’s calmer about it than he is. It unsettles him. He likes to know he’s not easily fazed by anything, but it seems like he is. It’s emasculating to know that this girl is handling such an easy topic better than he.

“Let me guess, another flaw in your favourite fiction character to help your self-esteem?” He tries.

His attempt to faze her earns him a genuine frown from her however.

“How exactly does that help my self-esteem?” She asks. There’s a pregnant silence where she more than patiently waits for him to tell her.

But when it’s clear that he has nothing of value to contribute, she says, “It makes you a real person to me. And a real person I can empathise with. Not this stock character whose only real use is to set unrealistic bars for kids.”

Ben is silenced by this, awed by what she has to say. For a moment, they don’t break eye contact. He’s the first to do so when he clears his throat and nods.

“Ok, next question.”

Rey looks at him warily but goes ahead anyway. This time, she doesn’t look down at the book for reference. She just keeps her eyes on him.

“You think I’m here to take advantage of your version of these stories,” she asks carefully. There has to be a reason why someone so out of her league would indulge in her churlish whims.

“Real or not real?”

“Real.”

“So why do you still do it?”

Ben shifts on his feet and shrugs. “To see if I can make a friend.” He doesn’t know what about her that makes him so brutally honest even for himself.

His answer was clearly something she didn’t expect. She’s quick to cover up the surprise with a professional nod. It made sense as to why the only thing he had asked initially in exchange for his answers was to learn _anything_ about her.

With a cautious tone, she asks, “Do you _still_ think I’m going to though? Spin your side of the books to profit from it?”

“No. But I could ask you the same again.”

Rey quickly shakes her head. “I’m not a writer. I only read.”

Ben smirks at the vague recollection of their interaction from his parents’ book launch. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“Sure, ok.”

“Were you disappointed to learn that I’m the guy these books are based on?”

Rey pauses. It’s a vulnerable question and Ben is waiting for her answer, looking like he just wants to get her answer to his question done and over with.

“Should I be?”

To a certain extent, he knows her answer should suffice. It’s satisfying to know that she wasn’t disappointed to know who the real Ben is in the short time they’ve met. But a lot of her image of who he is are still based on whatever was written of him out there.

He shrugs once more.

“Maybe.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rey gets confident with her questions.

Their little arrangement miraculously leads from one day to another and then another.

Somehow, the hours are never enough for one topic. There’s always a follow up question: a subset of the first one that eventually leads to another question even if it’s completely far off from what the book in hand is originally about.

Rey would ask questions about a scene being real or not, to which Ben’s yes or no answer would then come in. Sometimes it’s a clear-cut, dry, “yes” or “no” from him. Other times his attitude shows and it makes her less brazen with her questions.

“Did you really learn to braid your mother’s hair?” _Yes_.

“Were your parents really hollering at your robotics fair when you won first place?” _No_.

“Did you feel sad about it?” _What’s your next question?_

Somehow, in spite of the very personal questions, Ben finds it surprising that he doesn’t mind Rey’s questions at all. Had it been Hux asking him endless questions back in the F.O., a tacit “Go fuck yourself” would suffice.

With Rey however, he likes to give her answers. It’s not everyday someone was genuinely eager to know him better. And to his own surprise, he finds himself asking her questions too. It’s a new feeling for him to be interested to know what someone else - _other than Snoke_ \- had to say.

Ben had initially thought that Rey was the quiet, reserved type. Too shy for her own good. But in the time they spend together and the easy rapport that flourishes between them, he starts to notice the confidence she musters with him overtime. The way her sheepish eyes would glint so subtly with a kind smugness that only he can catch. It always happens whenever she summons enough courage to ask him a provocative question.

“Do you ever get conscious of how big your nose is?”

At first he was offended. It was a question borne from one of the books’ running joke about Little Ben’s sharp sense of smell. But she continued looking at him expectantly with harmless doe eyes, and he was convinced she could do no harm to him.

“No,” he said tacitly.

Whenever his answers did not follow up with a question of his own to her, she would carry on flipping the book in hand in search of something else to ask.

But most of the time he would find himself returning her question back at her. It has sort of become a little game that they implicitly enjoy now.

“You really had a crush on your fifth grade Math teacher?”

“Everyone does.”

“No, I have not.”

“It’s a rite of passage. Intelligence is hot,” he rambled absentmindedly. “Miss Reed is probably the reason I got into quantitative analytics.”

“But she was much _older_ than you!”

“I can’t help it if I liked older women.”

He starts to get entertained by the way Rey’s sudden discomfort would subtly show whenever he talks about his preference in women. _Blonde_ , tall enough to reach him, _busty_ , smart – qualities that clearly nipped at her.

The irritation on her part wanes later on, however.

By the fourth time they meet, Rey is completely indifferent to what he has to say about his preferences. Mainly because she’s convinced that his opinion on them are based on fleeting experiences that amount to nothing. He doesn’t give off the vibe that he can handle women on a more complex level. Primarily because he himself is too caught up with his own issues to be able to dabble on others’.

Rey reads him like an open book. Even when his answers are short and tacit, she sees through him and has a knowing look on her face. It should scare him, but it doesn’t.

It’s too easy for her to tell whenever he is not convinced by his own answers.

“I know the books end off on a happy note. But have you really moved on?”

He had told her about how his frustration at himself for not meeting his parents’ expectations and his frustration for how shitty they were at being parents had led to him walking out of their lives. He made sure to sound nonchalant and flagrant about it. And he had thought her nodding and humming along to his gripes was a sign that his attempt at his façade succeeded.

“Yeah I’ve moved on. I can’t care any less.”

There’s a heavy silence that follows. She’s thinking. And he’s thinking. And they both know that he isn’t convinced by his own answer.

“Moving on and caring doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive,” she carefully says in the small space between them.

He should feel disturbed and threatened by her knowingness for that alone. Instead, a foreign sense of warmth and reassurance fill his insides. He does not know how to articulate it, so he looks at her sideways and nods a bit. Rey continues to unknowingly demonstrate how well she can read him more than she can read the fictional Ben that his parents have written.

And her being the sole person who seems to be on his wavelength creates weird feelings in him.

In fact, his inability to make sense of this strange, intoxicating emotion around her has started to manifest in different ways.

First, he can’t stop thinking about her eyes. How everything is revealed through them before she could say anything else. He likes the idea that her eyes linger on him longer than it should. She doesn’t know that he would actually stay still at times for her staring convenience. When he _does_ catch her with his own eyes, she would instantly look away and - _he swears to God_ – a mottle of red would suffuse through the skin of her neck to her cheeks. And then it would be his turn to stare while she pointedly avoids his eyes.

Then there’s the sound of her laugh. It’s a melodic tune to his ears – even if it may sound like a mixture of snorting, sometimes daubed with high-pitched squeals. But he likes it more than anything else actually. He likes how _he_ makes her laugh. Not the idea of him, but his smart and moody quips and his dry sense of humour.

And he realizes how she’s the only one whom he would let her laugh at him.

Their easy arrangement gets disrupted for a week when Rey goes out of town for some work thing. A publisher’s convention, she had said.

They don’t meet for the entirety of that one week and it is then when he finds out how bad of a situation he has put himself in. His mind is constantly plagued with the thought of her, and there’s no turning back from it.

It’s always her eyes that conjures up in his mind first – no one can forget such spell-binding eyes. Then the way she would smile at him would come to mind next, and the sweet sound that comes out of her perfect lips will follow after.

It’s all he can ever think about.

Her eyes, her smile, her laugh.

And her eyes.

Her smile.

Her laugh.

_Her_.

Thinking of her in the absence of her physical presence is akin to constantly chasing a high. His grip on himself one night is hard and desperate. He’s a fuckup, an animal in need of something divine that’s on a higher order than what his natural mental faculties can comprehend. Even after he pumps himself like a rabid disease to reach his completion, when he slumps back on his sheets in a heap of sweat and tangy smell, the thought of her still creeps back in. And almost immediately, he feels empty and lacking again. He groans into his pillow, until he’s tired enough to fall asleep.

He wakes up in a sour mood because of it.

Because of her.

They’re supposed to meet for lunch on her first day back. But he takes the initiative to find her at the old publishing house in the morning. The door is locked. He’s too early. So he sits by the curb and fiddles with his phone until she arrives.

“Ben?”

She approaches him, concern evident in the way her brows are knitted in confusion as she looks down at him. With the sun behind her head, she looks like an angel in disguise and, he swears to God, the sight of her catches his breath.

“What are you doing here?”

He stands. “Hi.”

“Hi to you too.” She regards him suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

She makes the mistake of touching his forehead as if to check if he was sick. The thrill of any skin-on-skin contact with her is electrifying enough and it prompts him to clutch her wrist, stilling her hand on his cheek.

He doesn’t miss the soft gasp that escapes her lips. It sounds like he scared her a bit.

“You look like you haven’t gotten any rest. Is everything ok?” She asks. The knitted concern on her face warms his stone-cold heart and wants more of it: her sole attention on him.

It’s amazing how she’s able to recompose herself in no time. Especially when he makes it hard enough for her by the way he keeps his longing gaze on her.

Her eyes.

Her smile.

Her laugh.

_Her_.

Except, he’s not seeing her smile now. Nor her laughter. He’s worrying her and that’s the last thing he wants to do to her.

“I’m ok,” he manages to say.

He loosens the grip on her wrist, ready to return back to normal. But when her clueless self doesn’t take the hint and keeps her hand on him, he groans internally to himself.

“You’re worrying me. We weren’t supposed to meet until later. Did something happen?”

It takes him awhile to render himself articulate from his whirlwind of fuzzy emotions.

He closes his eyes and tightens his hold on her wrist once more. Tentatively, he turns a bit and presses his lips to the soft part of her wrist. And he keeps his lips there. With his eyes closed, he inhales the cheap citrusy perfume she has spritzed on and takes his time basking in her physical presence.

He ignores the way she’s stiff under his touch, unsure of how to proceed.

When he lets go of her, he looks back into her eyes.

She blinks a bit, ready to avoid his own gaze out of sheer discomfort. But something within her keeps her determined not to break the eye contact. It encourages him to a degree.

“I missed you.”

“Did you?”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

A frown etches on her face. And he thinks he ruined it. He and his refusal to be expressive. But a small smile cracks a bit at the corner of her lip and he can breathe a bit better again.

“What a lovely thing to hear first thing in the morning,” she whispers, entranced by what he had revealed to her.

And because he can’t help it, he asks the same of her. “What about you?”

She rubs her thumb gently on his cheek, tracing a line across his cheekbone, before trailing her nimble fingers to his chin to hold it.

“I missed you too.”

He thinks his heart could burst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very humbled by your comments from the last one, even though the last chapter took awhile. I wanted to wait until this chapter is finished but it was long enough as it is and so I've broken it into two. Purely because I hope to delve into the other themes I planned for properly in the subsequent chapters. That said, I might be upping the chapter by one or two more. And these updates are sure to come soonest!
> 
> Thank you once again for the support, I hope you like this one :)

He learns that he likes the feeling of her fingers grazing through his hair on a Sunday afternoon at the local park. He has his shades on, but his eyes are closed; relishing under the gentle heat of the sun, wondering when was the last time he got to appreciate a fine weather like that day. Rey’s stomach makes the best pillow he’s ever laid his head on.

She too is laid back perpendicular to him. Her head is perched on his backpack – the one he used to carry their sandwiches and picnic mat – so that she could properly read through her book: a collection of poems by the greatest contemporary poets. Because one hand is already occupied with perching the book high enough for her to read, her other hand would leave Kylo’s hair every now and then to flip the page.

He thinks he wishes her hand could stay still on him. Not because movement irritates him, but because he wants more of her on him alone.

“What are you reading? I haven’t asked.”

Rey hums as her hand returns back to his hair to softly brush it. She does not know where the confidence came from except that it felt natural for her to be this physically, platonically, acquaint with him.

“A poem collection.”

“Why?”

“Why ‘ _why’_?” She glances over at his turned face.

“I would think you’d be reading a novel or a how-to book,” he says. “That way there’s only one ending you know you’re headed towards to.” He thinks of the algorithm textbooks he’s pored over before to write his codes in college. Though thick and stupendously tiny in font size, he had more patience in finishing a textbook than an anthology or a collection of short stories and standalone pieces.

Rey hums. “I think of these collections as bite-size experiences for me. The kind you get from reading a novel, but efficiently.”

“I like efficiency.”

“Of course, you’re a coder.”

“No. A quant.”

“I wouldn’t know the difference.”

He think she’s right, that the difference is not relevant to her. Usually he’d get hellbent on correcting anyone who dares to generalize his work as a software engineer, someone whose glued to the computer all day, when in actual fact, his work is a far-cry from programming alone.

But with Rey, all those worldly differences didn’t matter to him. So he smirks instead.

“Will you read to me what you’re currently on now?” He asks.

Rey hums once more in assent, clears her throat a little and he watches her from where he lay on her stomach. He likes the way she prepares and primes herself to read: when she clears her throat, when she narrows her eyes a bit on the text before her …

“’ _I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_

_I lift my lids and all is born again._

_I think I made you up inside my head._ ’”

He really likes the sound of her voice. A few weeks of hanging around with her, with no labels, no expectations, have made him so sure of it.

“ – ‘ _The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,_

_And arbitrary blackness gallops in:_

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead_.’ – ”

He closes his eyes, though his face is still turned toward her, and relishes the moment. Life feels good with her. Only with her. He doesn’t remember what his past problems were when he feels her thumb trace his brow as she reads on. His nose flares a bit at the touch.

“ – _’I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed_

_And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane._

_I think I made you up inside my head’_ – “

He would kiss her he thinks. Not just insanely but like a thirsty traveler would after scouring through the deserts to find the one oasis that would save his life. She goes on to read another stanza and he’s ready to take the hand on his face to kiss her wrist - the second time he’s done since she returned the previous week.

But her hand lifts to trace the next stanza on the book and he opens his eyes to watch her.

“ – ‘ _I fancied you’d returned the way you said,_

_But I grow old and I forget your name._

_I think I made you up inside my head._ ’ – “

Her hand returns to him, and he takes it without a second thought.

“ – ‘ _I should have loved a thunderbird instead;_

_At least when spring comes they roar back again._

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_I think I made you up inside my head._ ’”

Rey clears her throat and concludes with the title and poet: “’Mad Girl’s Love Song’ by the great Sylvia Plath,” she claims. She looks over at Kylo who shuffles a bit to sit up. He plants his arm on either side of her tiny waist and she feels a little uncertain by how intensely he is gazing down at her now.

“I don’t know how to feel about that. That piece.”

Rey is about to say the same, to tell him how her first impressions of the poem has always been a mix of sadness and incompleteness. She likes her romantic endings, and this piece never fails to make her feel sodden with bitterness and longing by the end of it. But somehow, the act of her reading it for the nth time in her life, this time to Kylo’s ears, feels like she’s reading the poem for the first time in a different light.

“I think I learned a bit about myself through it,” she says it now as she’s realizing it.

Kylo looks at her cluelessly.

“Me. The Mad Girl. I identify with her.”

“So who’s the other subject that she refers to?” She sees him swallow, and once again she is reassured that her fascination of him is very much reciprocated.

“You, of course. There’s no one else.”

It becomes evident that he needs more from her and so she sits up. He shuffles a bit from where he previously leant forward. But it’s not enough. Her face is now much closer to his as she returns his serious gaze.

“I’ve only got one more question for you I think,” she says, not the least concerned about going on a tangent. He nods. She hasn’t asked anything about the fictional Ben from the real one in a while.

“Who are you right now? Kylo or Ben?”

His eyes dart a bit in a bid to think over her question. “That’s a hard one.”

“Well, what feels truer than the other?”

He purses his lips. This is a harder question than anything he was faced with. Including the questions he used to deal with to form algorithmic solutions for.

“I’m not the Ben my parents wrote,” he hesitates before her. “I would think I’m still Kylo but that is another identity I’ve betrayed after the F.O., you see. I … I don’t think I can answer your question, Rey.”

He looks shattered for a moment there. And Rey takes his face, holding it close to her and willing his eyes to stay with hers. “That’s okay. I like you for who you are right now.”

She sees him smile a bit at that.

“Even though I’ve set unrealistic bars for you as a kid?”

“ _Even_ that,” she tells him, laughing. She returns to the book where it’s still opened to the poem she read. She bookmarks it and sets it aside so that she could fully give her attention to him now. “The only reason I asked is partially related to why I identify with the Mad Girl that Sylvia Plath writes.”

She likes how attentive he is to her as she speaks. She thinks she could speak Greek and he’d still look at her with such reverence.

“You know I’ve clung so hard to this fictional Ben all this time and I thought I’d finally meet him in you.”

“Did I disappoint?”

“No, of course not!” She is quick to say. Then she recomposes herself, taking a breath to calm her speeding heartbeat as she utters her next words. “You’re _breathtaking_ , Ben. More than the idealistic way your parents have written about you. And – well, I’ve learned to shed that aside and I can’t give any more damns about those books now because -  the fact is - I really like you, Ben. Ben or Kylo. The essence of you, pure from anyone else’s interpretation of who you are.”

She poured her heart to him. Though restrained in language, the infatuation – or the depth of her admiration for him, at least – is unspoken in words but very much communicated to him in the way she looks at him, anticipating his response, and the way her breath hikes when he inches closer. His eyes dart to her lips before forcing it back on her eyes.

“I wasn’t a good person, Rey. You must know that.”

“I never said you were perfect.”

“I’ve sabotaged people at work for my own benefit.”

“You said you no longer identify with that anymore.”

“ – I’ve stuck my dick in faceless bodies for the fleeting thrill and antidotal effect it has on me.”

“Until now?”

“Not since you.”

“So what about it then?”

She is a dream, he thinks. There was no way she could like him so easily. So he tries to recalibrate her thinking of him once more: “I’ve sent genuine, honest people away when they thought they could seek help from me.”

“Could you? Have helped them, I mean.”

“I could but I didn’t,” he tells her quickly. “I’m not a good person, Rey.”

She frowns at him. “And I’m not your local priest. _Or_ your confession box, Ben.”

He looks at her, not believing what sheer fortune God has given him. “And still, you stand by what you say? That you like me?”

“I do.” She says unflinchingly. “You have such capacity for goodness and you don’t realise it.”

She knows it from the very fact that he has returned to his parents, that he gives his reluctant support to them in their book promotions. He didn’t have to help her get her book signed with no strings attached and still he did.

She saw his goodness in the way he prepared this picnic for them too. Even having prepared some extra sandwiches when she asked if Finn and Rose could drop by later in the day just to meet him for a short while – there was no need for sandwiches for them.

“Please tell me you believe it,” she half-whispers, now feeling more nervous for him than for herself.

There's a hesitation in his eyes as he briefly licks his lip.

The emotion passes just for a moment.

Instead of a nod or a yes, she gets her answer when he caves in and presses his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mad Girl's Love Song - Sylvia Plath
> 
>  
> 
> "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
> I lift my lids and all is born again.  
> (I think I made you up inside my head.)
> 
> The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,  
> And arbitrary blackness gallops in:  
> I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
> 
> I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
> And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
> (I think I made you up inside my head.)
> 
> God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:  
> Exit seraphim and Satan's men:  
> I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
> 
> I fancied you'd return the way you said,  
> But I grow old and I forget your name.  
> (I think I made you up inside my head.)
> 
> I should have loved a thunderbird instead;  
> At least when spring comes they roar back again.  
> I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.  
> (I think I made you up inside my head.)"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: unsafe sex(?), mild ambiguous consent due to single perspective writing

In ‘Naboo Nights’, Little Ben had cuddled with his parents on their bed after the passing of his grandmother. There was an illustration of the three of them huddled together to brave the lonely night. They were braving the mourning season together. Reading those scenes made young Rey long to feel what it’s like to have someone to hold onto to sleep.

She could never do it with Finn, her only friend in the children’s home. The boys and girls were always separated by night. And even in the girls’ quarters, no one would dare to cuddle for fear of being mistaken as homosexual. The conservative caretakers were very particular about homosexuality.  Something that backlashed greatly when Rey and Finn were just about to leave the home due to their age. She had moved on from that issue, but never from her innate longing to be held.

Finn only gave hugs. And even that started to disappear shortly after he found Rose. Rey’s never felt what it’s like to be touched so intimately. That is until Ben.

When he kissed her at the park that day, she hadn’t known what to do.

“I’m sorry, is this okay?” He asked her when he felt her stock-still against his lips. It wasn’t because she didn’t like it.

She could only afford a nod, her voice having been lost after being surprised by the foreign sensation of someone’s lips against hers. It wasn’t the same “soft, plump lips” that the romance novels she’s vetted through have described before. Maybe it was because it had been a sudden move on his part, almost jerk-like, the way he had pushed his lips against hers, as if driven by a hungry desire.

“I won’t do it again, if you don’t want to.”

He had started to retreat from her. Just an inch. And because she still couldn’t speak, she moved instead. She held onto his collar to still him. When he shifted his eyes back on her, the inability to speak only worsens. Her mouth opened to utter something but somehow her brain short-circuited and there’s nothing for her to articulate. Or more precisely, there were too many feelings to digest inside her that she has been rendered inarticulate.

His gaze on her did nothing to help her.

In spite of her momentary muteness, something had clicked in-between them. It must have been the way her eyes conveyed such longing that only he recognizes.

And so he moved again. This time he attuned himself to the minutiae of her reactions to him as he inched closer. When her face retreated so ever slightly, he stilled for her until she grew accustomed to the proximity of their faces.

“You can close your eyes, if you want,” he said ever so softly. His hand moved to hold her neck, not so much to position her, but to calm her. And when she obliged, he knew that it had helped.

She didn’t have to wait until she felt his lips on hers again. She realized they were indeed soft. His movements were slower this time round. He kissed her in spite of her unresponsiveness until her senses came back to her. Only then she did she move to return the favour.

A low rumble from his chest made her open her eyes. “I never thought you’d kiss back,” he muttered lowly to her in amusement. She pulled him back to her lips.

She let Ben lead, even if it was just their lips mashing together for a bit. Rey’s an attentive person, and she would be damned if she was not paying attention and learning as much as she can from him.

Soon enough she felt his lips trace the seam of her lips and if she didn’t get the clue from the numerous books she read before, then she got it from a natural instinct to open herself up for him.

She figured very quickly that she likes kissing Ben. His tongue worked expertly to explore her mouth. She previously thought he always had his fullest attention on her. But this – what he was doing to her with that mouth – she was at the receiving end of his utter devotion to her.

And to think they were barely scratching the surface.

She liked it when he made those manly sounds against her. A suppressed groan, a low hum against her skin when his lips start deviating and peppering the underside of her jaw with sweet kisses. She held onto his strong arms as he lowered her flat on the picnic mat, relishing the way he caged her in and blocking the world from her periphery.

When his lips returned to hers, their kisses became wet and urgent. She found herself breathing hard as one of his hands began to roam her body. The thinness of her sundress was flimsy enough to let her feel the roughness of his large palm against her rib and it made her feel a tingling sensation deep inside her. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and she almost wished she hadn’t worn a bra so she could really feel the way he pandered to her there.

He’s sucking on the soft skin of her neck when the sound of children playing from afar registered in her brain.

“Ben,” she said. But her sigh was mistaken for encouragement. Ben’s lips moved to trace her collar bone, pushing the sleeve of her dress aside.

“Ben, wait,” she said once more, this time a little bit firmer. He reluctantly lifted his face up, resting his chin in between her clothed breasts, exhaling on the exposed skin. It made her skin rise.

And because she sensed the rejection he might be feeling, she held on tight to his broad shoulders. “There’s too many children.”

“ _Fuck_ the children.”

“Ben!”

The aghast tone that her voice took made him laugh, bringing him to take back the bad joke.

“Fine,” he relented. He fixes her sleeve back before shifting himself off of her. He settled himself right next to her and brought his arms around her waist to pull her against his chest. “Is _this_ fine?” There’s a drip of sarcasm in his tone.

Rey held tight on to his forearm, resorting to physical responses instead of verbal ones. She couldn’t trust herself to speak when he has her so captivated. So this was what if felt like to be held. For a while, they lay there in the open air, being in the moment and listening to the sounds of life around them: the sound of children playing, some elderly women chattering and passing by from a distance, the sound of leaves ruffling above them as the wind blew gently through the park.

This was a perfect day in her life. And she wished it could be as blissful as that day every day.

“This is nice,” Rey finally managed to say after some time.

When Ben didn’t respond, she turned in his arms to face him, only to find him softly sleeping. She knew he’s not fully unconscious by the way his arm tightened its hold around her to pull her closer.

She found herself at a startling proximity to his face once more. Up close she could see the constellation of beauty marks dotted on his face. He really was a very handsome man, she found herself thinking.

She inched closer until his prominent nose grazed hers and when she was close enough, she planted a chaste kiss on a mole on his cheek.

He made a soft, groggy noise upon her touch. It encouraged her to bring her hand to brush his hair back as she hovered her lips over to the next mole. And the next. Then the next. And the next …

“ _This_ is nice,” he muttered languidly. His eyes are still closed and she couldn’t help but grin at that. She moved to kiss each eyelid, and that made him open his eyes.

He looked at her as he had done on the morning of her arrival back in town, albeit with the haze of sleep in his eyes.

“Ben,” she spoke softly. “What are we?”

All these intimacies, the unlabeled dates, the subdued flirting and finally them kissing – there’s only so much she could fathom before she needed a label placed on it – on _them_.

“Well what do you want to be?”

It’s too easy for him to ask when she herself didn’t know what they each wanted out of this.

She wanted belonging, yes. Some permanence would be nice. But him? He’s not from this town. He’s on temporary self-exile from whatever Silicon Valley empire he came from. How could one find permanence in that?

“Talk to me, Rey.”

She almost forgot that Ben was watching her, grogginess no longer there. So she lay fully on her back, staring at the sky and trying to make out what shapes the clouds made.

Her silence unsettled him. “Did I say something wrong?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, no.” She reassured him. She paused for a bit to think, but the waiting on his part was palpably agonizing. “I just thought that all of these things going on between us – they’re nice. I really like it, Ben.”

“And I do too,” he told her. He carefully propped his head on an arm such that his face hovered over hers.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Rey.”

When she still kept her eyes on the clouds, he prodded gently once more, “Please.”

It’s his last plead that brought her to look at him. Rey licked her lips, nervous about how she might look like to him when she tells him her greatest fear. Her nervous energy clearly radiated to him because he frowned down at her in concern.

“I’m stuck in this small town for good, Ben,” she started slowly, “And I don’t know where you’ll be – “

“ – I’ll be here, Rey.”

“Not just for today,” she pressed. “For _tomorrow_ , the next week, the next month. Hell, I don’t even know if you’ll still be here the next year.”

“I’ll be here if you want me to.”

The quickness of his response shook her. “It can’t be that simple, Ben.” 

She sat up, looking down at his laid form then. “Don’t you have other obligations to attend to outside of this town? Your parents have moved on to the next city for their tour – I thought you said you were following them around to make up for lost time?”

“There’s technology to bridge the distance. Have you heard of a thing called Skype?” Clearly, he still found her distress amusing which only worsened her anxiety unbeknownst to him.

She rubbed her face, too exhausted to go about in circles when she’s the only one taking the topic seriously. He quickly sensed that and finally cleared his throat.

“I mean it, Rey,” he said to her. “I’m staying for as long as you want to. I _want_ you. And I can only hope you’d want me till the next year and hopefully beyond too.”

She dared a small peek at him; him still laid down with his head propped up, staring up at her like she was the only thing that mattered then and there.

“If you want my game plan: it’s freelancing,” he further supplied. “I can easily earn my past salary for getting jobs done from the internet.” He made an effort to avoid telling her that he took most of the First Orders’ clients upon whistleblowing. He got their clients’ jobs done under his own name after having earned their trust when he ratted out on the companies’ scandalous affairs.

“You’re it for me, Rey. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re with me,” he told her more firmly then. “I know it sounds crazy – _and it really is_ \- but I just know it. There’s nothing better than what we’ve had these past weeks. And I only want more of it.”

He didn’t notice that Rey’s eyes have welled a bit. Hot tears threatened to spill over her cheeks as she processed what he said to her. Finn was ever the only one who expressed his desire to face the world with her when they first stepped out of the orphanage.

She wanted to rebut Ben by saying that he couldn’t possibly mean it. Instead, she said, “That sounds too good to be true.”

He sat up then, taking her face and wiping the stray tear that had fallen down her cheek. “Well it is _good_. And it’s most definitely true,” he told her earnestly, eyes pinned on her. The way he held her face to his, shutting the rest of the world out again, it made her breath hitch. “Tell me you want this too, Rey. And we’ll make it work, I swear by it.”

She smiled a bit then. Albeit at the expense of more hot tears spilling on her face. “Ben, I’m not an ambitious woman. I’ll never be able to impress you with – “

“I’m not hiring you, Rey. Why do you speak like that?”

“I just want to manage your expectations – “

“You’ve exceeded any and all expectations,” he quickly said before pressing his lips hard on hers. It felt like he was trying to convince her physically. “If anything, I’m the one who should be _begging_ you to accept me.” He pressed his lip to hers once more. The urgency behind his words and his fervent kisses made her dizzy.

“You’re it for me, Rey.” He said again. It might just become his mantra. And she could live the rest of her days listening to him say it to her, if God was willing.

When they pulled back from each other, she’s laughing a bit and nodding.  “Ok,” she said. She didn’t have to tell him that he’d always been for her since young. Sure, she grew up with a fictional Ben. But to end up with the actual Ben and to know him in his realness – it’s a fucking miracle and she doesn’t know what good deed she’s done that made her so deserving of it.

Ben nodded his head, pleased and relieved of her acceptance. “Good.” He nodded once more, bringing her face to him to kiss her again. “We’re good then.”

 

With their verbal agreement, Ben was emboldened with touching Rey: stolen kisses, soft caresses to her cheek or the exposed skin of her neck, longer and tighter hugs – he took whatever she would let him.

But Ben was still a man with a primitive need for more.

Each time he was with her, he pushed the boundaries bit by bit. He once visited her at the publishing house with strawberries. She had been delighted as with his other surprises before and was eager to finish them with him in the office. Sir Kenobi was not around so they had the privacy of the publishing house for themselves.

That was when Ben took a chance and decided to feed Rey the strawberries with his own hand.

At first it had amused her, laughing at him for being a mothering ‘boyfriend’ (he very much liked the sound of it). But his gaze on her remained intent and she must have noticed how quiet he had become because she fell quiet shortly after.

His attention had narrowed onto how red her mouth was, and how delicious her lips looked as it puckered to accept each bite of the strawberry he proffered to her lips. It made his imagination run wild. His silence should have been disturbing, but Rey – his _sweet_ Rey – was accepting of everything that he was. She didn’t question his silence, having sensed that something else was taking over his mind.

When his pants felt tight, he broke off his gaze on her and avoided her lips. The thoughts he was having of her at that moment were damning. He could not entertain them right when he’s with her. It would be disgusting of him.

So instead of feeding the last strawberry to Rey, he brought the last one to his own lips, his eyes averted from hers.

“Do you really want that last one?” She said when he was going to take another finishing bite. The question stilled him. He didn’t want to see her tempting lips. How round it could get, how big enough it could accommodate his –

“Ben, are you there?” She prodded once more, amused by his lagging responsiveness.

He nodded immediately, offering the half-bitten strawberry to her. He keeps his eyes away from her face. He offers it only halfway in the air so that she was meant to take it from him instead of having him feed it to her lips directly.

But she was not having any of that. To Ben’s surprise, she took his wrist to bring his hand to her lip, making him turn to look. A choking sound escaped him when Rey fed directly on the strawberry he was holding up. Her warm tongue touches the tips of his thumb and with her teeth, removes the strawberry from his hold. She took her time to chew, keeping her eyes on him. How smug she looked.

And like a man possessed, Ben moved his previously occupied hand to trace her lips. Her chewing slowed down at his touch. When she swallowed, he gently pushed his thumb in-between her lips. She looked at him cautiously before opening up anyway. The pad of his thumb touched the wet hotness of her tongue and he pressed gently on it. Her mouth only opened wider for him. And _fuck_ , the images that conjured in his mind at the sight of her mouth brought him to replace his thumb with his index and middle finger.

“Suck on it,” he said. His voice was low and dark, barely recognizable to his own ears as it had been a while. But in spite of the foreignness, Rey returned his dark gaze game-on and – _fuck_ – she sucked as instructed. It was slow, and warm, but pleasurably agonizing all the same.

Her head bobbed as she worked her mouth around his fingers. His mouth fell agape just at the sight of her utter devotion to him. Her daring eyes not breaking away from his stupefied look. When she pulled her lips off of his fingers with an audible ‘pop’, something snapped within his restraint.

He lunged forward and crashed his lips against hers. A gasp escaping her but he was too intoxicated with her to pause and ask her about it. Their bodies fell back onto the floor - empty strawberry boxed be damned – and Ben’s hand scrambled to her skirt as his mouth attacked hers in a frenzy.

Their breathing got heavy. When Ben breaks away to focus on pushing her skirt up her legs, their mouths lay open against each other, exchanging hot breaths as Ben cups her mound and presses his middle finger on her through the thin cloth of her panty. She released a gasp that sounds like heaven to his ears.

He silenced her hitched breath with searing kisses. She’d enjoy this, he’d make sure he’d give all the world’s pleasures to her. He pressed a finger as deep as the cloth would let him into her and she let out a soft moan that made his head dizzy with lust.

The dampness of her panty increased with every stroke. “You’re so fucking _wet_.” He pushed the cloth aside and slid his finger in, watching Rey’s face morph from momentary shock to one of pleasure.

“D’you like that?” He asked even though she was too deep in her pleasure to answer. Her gasping his name was enough of an answer then.

Their breathing increased in unison as he worked on her. A second one added somehow later, and the way she held on to his shoulders like he was her lifeline made him feel alive. Like he had purpose. A divine mission to give everything to this woman.

When he felt her flutter around his fingers, pure lust took over and he pulled his fingers out of her to undo his pants. She released a soft whine that she must have gotten embarrassed quickly by when he saw how the skin of her neck reddened to her cheeks. He soothed her with hushes against her shoulder as he hastily released himself and lined himself along her slit.

“Ben,” she breathed against his ear. He turned his head to meet her lips and pushed his tongue into her without restraint at all this time.

It was not until he was slowly easing himself into her when she breaks their kiss, shutting her eyes hard and trying to take him in. Two fingers could only prepare her so much for him, he realized. He groaned against her cheek. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I’m sorry – “ She was trying to say. Her thinking about apologizing baffled him so much.

“Shut _the fuck_ up, Rey.”

He somehow fully-seated himself inside her and they took a momentary pause to take it all in. This was bliss. Staring down at Rey like that, how flushed she looked, made him throb with more lust. She’d be the first face he’d remember and immortalize in his memory out of the many faceless women he’s had quick fucks with.

And when she gasped liked that, his patience snapped. He could not wait for her. He began to thrust in and out slowly, attuning himself to the hitched sounds she made. How the skin of her dragged against his cock with every pull and thrust. Fuck, it felt good.

She could make a beast out of him, he thought. Because it didn’t take too long before he’s thrusting hard against her, chasing his own high. His hand moved to hold the back of her head to protect her head against the floor. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the cozy, wooden-furnaced publishing office. The scene was scandalous. But there was no room to think of how primitive they were being right then.

Ben grunted when he feels himself on his edge. He only managed to gasp Rey’s name as a warning before he was spilling his spent inside her. And it felt good. This was nirvana. He held onto her tight until he has fully emptied himself.

He’s dizzy from the aftermath, unsure of what to make of his surroundings as he lazily dragged his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses across Rey’s chest and neck. He found her lips eventually and kissed her for the longest time.

It wasn’t until he pulled himself out of her and rolled on to the floor beside her did his awareness sharpen again. He looked at Rey with a satisfied look planted on his face. “That was nice.”

She was staring at the ceiling; her face inscrutable.

“Rey?”

She turned to look at him, a smile tugging at her lips too. But then he saw the flash of hesitation behind it and realisation dawned unto him.

“Fuck.” He pushed the hair on his face back. A quick rewind of his burst of pleasure in his mind crystallized the gravity of what he'd done. And in a louder voice to match his stupidity, “ _Fuck_.”

“No, it’s okay,” she was beginning to say. But Ben sat up, turning to her with the most ashamed look.

“I’m sorry I should have asked.” He should have asked if it had been her first, if she was on the pill, if she even wanted him _inside_ her – “I fucked this up. I’m so sorry. Let me just – “

“Ben,” Rey tried to interject his thoughts once more. “It’s fine.” She sat up too to fix herself as Ben hastily pulled his pants back in. As if he had to hide his dick from her before he could do any more damage.

When he dared to look back at Rey, she was watching him. There was no disgust on her face, just pure understanding. And he felt all the more ashamed for it. He gently kneeled where she was still sat on the floor.

“You really don’t have to worry,” she said softly when he took her face in his hands.

“Was that your first?” He had to ask.

Her refusal to vocalise her answer made him nervous. “I don’t think an answer to that question will soothe your mind,” she said instead. “I _told_ you I liked it.”

He pressed his forehead against hers then and kissed his apologies on her sweet face. She was too good to be true and he was stretching the limits of his good fortune. “I’ll go grab a morning-after pill,” he finally said. He moved to leave but Rey's arms rounded his neck to keep him where he was.

She kissed him hard, as if still trying to convince him. The soft moan he released served as an answer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was a lot for me to unpack from these two but at the same time i wanted to be economical with how much description and explanation i needed to give in the writing. i've deliberately left a lot for the readers' interpretation. (ie. if rey has an implant or not) -- some of the themes briefly touched here might be delved into the final chapters!
> 
> i hope you guys liked this one!!!
> 
> the race to finish this before TROS comes out on the 19th when i watch it is real!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this bit, please leave your mark in any form below!
> 
> Keep in touch with my sideblog Tumblr/Twitter @reylomami ☺️
> 
> x


End file.
